Undercover Assassin of the Supernatural
by ThisIsPerfection
Summary: Opal Gray owes Dumbledore a favour, and he's calling it in. She must do one thing, keep Harry Potter alive. However preventing him from diving into life threatening situations every two minutes proves harder than the Assassin first thought. With Voldemort growing deadlier each day, the task of protecting Harry grows complex. It all would be so much easier if she could just do magic
1. The Assassin and the Alchemist

A familiar face appeared at the doorway and its owner leant its long body casually against the doorframe to the lab.

"What?" she asked, tipping a chemical through a funnel and into a beaker, she was bent to its level to ensure the right amount was measured out. If not the consequences could be disastrous.

"This came for you," Jay answered sauntering into the room and waving an envelope about. She didn't look up whilst she trickled a few flakes of silver metal into the same beaker and grinned as it started smoking slightly, "by owl." he added.

She nearly knocked over her concoction as she straightened. "Owl?" she pushed her goggles to the top of her head and reached to snatch the letter. Jay held it out of her reach, an entire head taller than her and raised a brow.

"Who sends letters by owls Gray?" he questioned, his eyes burning.

"Wizards do Jay. Wizards and witches." she answered, ripping it from him and tearing it open, hoping it wasn't who she thought it was. As her eyes scanned over the slanted writing her mentor walked around the lab, inspecting labelled vials of ingredients and completed poisons and potions.

"You've been busy." he commented "Am I not sending you on enough assignments?" he smirked. She sneered back absently as her blood ran cold. He leant over the beaker and sniffed the solution she'd mixed, making sure not to inhale the pale blue smoke emitting from it, it stank. So he moved rapidly, in case it exploded in his face, he had never taken much stock in poisons and liquids, but Gray had taken a particular interest and had since perfected the art. So much so he had sacrificed one of his rooms to create a lab for her to mix all sorts to her heart's content. It had proved a useful tactic for his agents, another weapon to complete their operations. He did complain, however, about the amount of time Gray spent with the magical side of the brews. His small amount of UAS' and ever diminishing use for them did not justify her sleepless nights and wasted time testing and trying potions she came across in ancient spell books and lists salvaged and pillaged from prior operations.

"What is this?" he said, gesturing to the brewing liquid on the bench.

"Wolfsbane." she answered, slipping the letter into her back pocket, counting on his disinterest in potions to be unable to identify it. The product sitting on the bench was indeed Wolfsbane, but she was intent on tampering with it until she achieved a complete cure for lycanthropy. It was like finding a cure for the common cold. Impossible.

"What does it do?" she winced at the question. Jay's interest in non-dangerous potions was non -existent. In his eyes if it didn't kill someone, it was a waste of time. She had her answer carefully worded.

"It prevents the psychological transformation of lycanthropy." she said, plugging a Bunsen burner into a gas tap that she had convinced Jay was essential to install, and striking a match.

"English," he growled.

"Lycanthropes are werewolves." she elaborated, "When they turn into wolves in the full moon their minds are no longer their own. They belong entirely to the animal they become. However that animal is still part human, retaining all that advanced fury, hatred and underlying desire to kill once it has transformed. The combination of human cunning and animal ferocity is what makes them so dangerous." she flicked the gas switch, opened the air hole at the base of the burner and held her lit match above it. "Wolfsbane does not prevent the physical transformation, that's a permanent change, but the psychological transfiguration- that _is_ something that can be altered."

Gray sounded so passionate about her work that Jay found himself almost caring. "And how could that possibly help eliminate targets?" his eyes flashed a warning to her. This man was fearsome when provoked, and she wasn't foolish enough to provoke him, she had seen the Wall of Shame.

"Have you ever shot a wolf? A normal wolf?" He shook his head. "It's not that difficult, hunters do it all the time, I've seen them. The target drinks this every night for a week before the full moon, when they turn they're just a normal wolf, bigger true but," she shrugged "that just means more mass to shoot at right?" she inwardly congratulated herself on blagging her way through that. In reality she was looking for a way to prevent the transformation physically too. Not to make it simpler to kill those infected by lycanthropy, but to cure them entirely. Jay nodded.

"Good work," he said sloshing the material around in the beaker "thinking outside the box. I like it." he stepped closer to her, the beaker still in his hand. "So how would the target be persuaded to drink this every night for a week?" he asked.

"Well most werewolves already take it. It's quite common in their world. But it's difficult to brew, so they usually require a skilled potions master," she waved her hand before her face, "If not they're in a little trouble. Having a few vials spare can get you pretty far with werewolves." she grinned "Alternatively for a skilled Assassin slipping the potion into the target's drink will not be a problem." she purposely failed to mention that the potion would have to be laced in such small quantities that it would take about three months for the target to consume enough Wolfsbane for the effects to take place. The foul taste of the potion needed to be cleverly concealed, difficult when the addition of sugar rendered it ineffective, so drip feeding was the only way to slip it in, and into a drink that did not include sugar. Jay didn't need to know that small detail. She wished he would leave, the letter was burning a hole in her pocket, and she needed a quiet room and a CD player to concentrate on what she would do.

"Jay, I've got work to do." she said grabbing the beaker and taking it over to another work bench to check the thermometer she had put in the oven a half hour before.

"Hmph." he said watching her back. "We have some new recruits." he added before leaving "If you don't have a job I'd like you to show them the ropes."

She groaned inwardly, training the new recruits was the worst thing he could have asked her to do.

"I'm not sure yet Jay, things have a way of…rearing their ugly heads." she murmured. He rose his brows and left her to contemplate if liquid silver would work better. But considering the melting point of silver was 962°C, liquefying and storing it at that temperature would kill the drinker. Maybe not.


	2. Such a Good Slytherin

Professor Dumbledore had, for some time, been describing, at some length, his love of Lemon drops. The Potions master was beginning to tire of wondering why his old friend was babbling, and what he was stalling.

"….combination of sweet and sour, the sweet from the sugar and the sour from the lemon, is just mag-"

"Albus," Snape interrupted. "What is it?"

"I just thought you may want to be enlightened on the benefits of Lemon drops," He nodded. "Now that you are well aware of that I think we should move onto more pressing matters,"

Severus straightened in his chair, alert again.

"Due to…certain reactions of the public and…certain decisions of the Government concerning our faculty, I'm forced to take matters into my own hands. I've recruited someone to help. She's arriving tonight, I want you to meet her, and I need your advice. Hopefully she'll be staying here for a while."

"And why is she coming?" Snape had been delayed enough today to deal with Dumbledore's games. First of all by that ignorant Longbottom child who'd knocked over his only vial of Acromantula venom. He'd spent the rest of the afternoon fuming as viciously as the place where the venom had eaten through the stone floor and every so often sent off a puff of lethal smoke. He had finally been able to clear up the rare substance before it dried, which cost more than Longbottom could even fathom in his stupid head, and then the idiot had blundered back in apologising obtusely. It would have annoyed Snape less if the boy hadn't slipped on the substance he'd use to clear the floor and went flying down the other end of the classroom sending the pungent cleaning liquid everywhere, smashing into the ingredients cupboard and emptying it onto the floor. And if he hadn't been delayed enough that day Longbottom informed him that the Headmaster wanted to see him, as he pulled himself up and left, traipsing rare and expensive ingredients across the floor and out with him. And now Dumbledore had deferred him with his Lemon Drop speech. The headmaster shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Lemon drop?" he held out a white paper bag to Severus who refused. "I want you to meet her first, then you can ask all the questions you like."

"Why me?" The question took Albus by surprise. "I mean why am I here to meet her, instead of Minerva or Pomona or Filius?"

"Severus, you have been the most understanding of my decisions in the past. I trust your judgement, and your secrecy." Snape's eyebrows rose "Minerva would surely try to talk me out of it, and worry the entire time the girl is here. Filius would undoubtedly agree to it, but slip up, he gets too excited to keep secrets. And Pomona would insist on watching over the girl, useful, but unnecessary and too conspicuous. You're the perfect amount of understanding, secretive and inconspicuousness."

"That's why I make such a good Slytherin," he said bitterly, though grinning.


	3. Undercover Assassin of the Supernatural

Tripping up the cold stone stairs, and wrenching the thick coat around her bony shoulders, she wondered why on Earth she had accepted this job. She shivered involuntarily.

September? They had to be kidding.

Autumn was her favourite month, no doubt, with the fiery colours and the essence of change in the air, but she rarely accepted jobs in Scotland due to the sheer iciness. The chill was partly reflected from the huge Lake, as dark and still as a black mirror, rumoured to be harbouring mermaids and a giant squid. And partly from the fact that she was so far north that she swore she saw a polar bear lurking in the trees. The last few steps brought her further inside the castle, and she wasn't prepared for the blast of warm air that hit her as she rounded a corner. She practically stumbled, peeling off the coat. It was several sizes too big, and weighed her down as she carried it through the grand Entrance Hall. She stopped before two gargoyles and sighed.

Was she really prepared to stand there, in an empty corridor, and speak aloud some confectionery to visit the man she had been avoiding for some time? She felt like an idiot, although she had done some stupid things in her life to gain access to somewhere, she had never had to offer a password to an inanimate object. She stood there, in the middle of indecision, if she entered the office he would know she was alive, and willing to help.

Albus Dumbledore wanted a favour from her, and she was in his debt.

"Lemon drops," she growled, her voice echoing in the large empty corridor, and the gargoyle leapt aside allowing her to mount the ascending staircase. She eyed it hesitantly, and decided it was safe enough to jump upon.

"Come in!" the old headmaster called as he heard tentative footsteps approaching his door. Severus sat rigid in his chair, not giving her the satisfaction of facing the door when she entered. "Welcome to Hogwarts." Dumbledore said grinning and offering her a seat next to Severus. "Allow me to introduce our Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House Severus Snape." Severus turned to inspect the girl. She mustn't have been older than twenty, with strange grey eyes and a young face, she held his gaze firmly and nodded in greeting.

"Opal Gray, UAS." She smiled holding out a hand for him to shake. He looked at it dubiously.

"UAS?" Snape asked slowly, ignoring her attempt at etiquette. She looked at Dumbledore for assurance that she could reveal her title, he nodded.

"Undercover Assassin of the Supernatural," she elaborated.

Severus choked in disbelief. "Assassin?" he screeched. "You hired an assassin to kill Voldemort? Dumbledore! This is the darkest wizard of all time we are talking about. Have you gone insane?" he yelled.

"No, no," Dumbledore reassured him, quite calmly. "Opal is here to protect Harry,"

Snape seemd to have lost the ability to speak, and several second of silence stretched out among them. When it seemed he had gathered himself, he tried again, "What kind of assassin would protect him?" He looked from the girl to Dumbledore.

She held her hand up to the Headmaster before he could explain and spoke herself."CBTA consists of primary first aid and medicinal training, in depth and consistent defence work and advanced to intermediate protection skills." at his blank look she added, "I'm just as capable of protecting a target as I am of killing him,"

"CBTA?"

"Compulsory Basic Training in Assassination," she reeled off.

Severus collapsed into the hard backed chair.

"Opal here is in my debt," the Professor spoke, his voice lifting the tension between the other two. "I have requested she repay that debt by watching over Harry, whether he needs it or not."

"Speaking of which-" Severus and Opal said simultaneously. He motioned for her to speak first but she sat in silence.

"-he will never agree to it Albus and you know he won't. He's far too proud to accept a bodyguard."

"That is why it is you sat in that chair Severus, and not Mr. Potter himself. He must not know Opal is here to protect him, she will befriend him and watch over him that way. Opal you had a comment?"

She nodded. "Speaking as an acquaintance, not an employee, how long will my services be required? I wouldn't usually ask, as the answer is normally 'as long as the target still breathes' but the agency are slightly concerned about my lack of income," she had the dignity to redden slightly at the mention of money.

"You will be given all you need here Opal, food, clothing, a bed. I will make sure you never want of anything while you are here. The matter of time is slightly more complex. We are unsure of how long the danger may last, so you could be here from two months, to two years." her eyes widened ever so slightly, "As to your worry about the agency, it is you who is in my debt, not them, so any 'middle-man' fees they require will be covered."

"Thank you," she said mulling over the concept of one assignment for two years. It wasn't unusual, due to the nature of the job, for assassins to take on more than one job at a time. Details needed to be perfected for it to be a professional's work; that took time, sometimes months, working on two or three cases within that month was easy, as long as sleep wasn't a necessity for you. She fished in the backpack that hung across her body.

"Is that where you keep your weapons?" Snape joked.

"No," she answered calmly. "They're strapped to my body. They're less suspicious to transport that way."

There was a moment's pause.

"I…I was joking," Snape stammered, "You actually use weapons?" She stopped rooting in her bag and stood up straight to face him, he noticed she barely reached his shoulder.

"Not always, sometimes hands on combat is necessary. We were trained to never rely on our weaponry, otherwise if it were lost, stolen, broken or knocked from our possession in combat we would be screwed."

"Did you never think of using a wand?" Severus asked sarcastically.

She shook her head as she pulled out a beige file from the bag."I can't use a wand. Well, I guess sticking it in someone's eye could prove useful." She placed the file on the desk.

"You're a Muggle?" Snape's face was tight, his voice stony.

"Yes," she answered slowly, remembering the correct word for 'her type'. She was more than used to this reaction, those who wielded magic were in the concrete belief that they ruled over everything, and when she trotted in, a 5'2" 'Muggle' claiming she could kill them in one single swipe….

For some it was too much to handle.

She lost a lot of business that way, so usually keeping quiet was the best way to go, so when they discovered she had not used magic to kill it was already too late, and she earned a little grudging respect out of it. Snape wouldn't even speak directly to her now.

"You've hired a Muggle assassin to not kill someone, and you're keeping it in the castle."

"Less of the 'it'." she protested.

He blatantly ignored her. "Albus-"

"Look," the ballsy Muggle girl stood, towering over the still seated wizard. "I'm not thrilled about it either, but I'm even less ecstatic about staying in someone's debt for the rest of my life. So I'm looking after the boy, you don't have to like it, but it's happening."

Snape stood too, his skinny yet tall frame imposing over her, casting a long dark shadow over her still defiant features. "Do you even know what sort of danger he's in?" he turned sharply to the ancient headmaster, silently begging him to see sense. "She's got no chance against him!"

At this the assassin's face softened. It was not her lack of magic he was doubting, but her skillset.

"Of course," she answered, sitting down again. "Of course I know what I'm up against. Do you think I'd take a job without doing research? That's most of the job! I've been doing this half my life, that's far too long to make mistakes."

Snape looked momentarily surprised, but pressed on. "The danger Potter is in is nothing like you've ever seen before. You can't have, the Dark Lord is…powerful."

"I know," she responded, "I know what he can do and how he does it. I know he wants the boy dead and he wants to do it himself. I know the resistance your facing from the Ministry, and how this 'Dark Lord' is _loving _it." she looked over the back of her chair at him, he was still standing, contemplating her words. He swore he saw a familiar glint in her eye, and didn't like it. He knew exactly where he'd seen that look, in the Dark Lord Voldemort's slits. Snape blinked and looked away.

"How long?" he growled, sitting next to the smug Muggle. She raised her brows in question. "Have you been…doing this?"

Opal Gray looked at him, this wasn't the first time she'd been asked this. Many customers over the years had asked her of her experience. Her young face and short frame gave her the look of a teenager. Severus Snape however, was not asking for proof of experience. So she looked at him.

"Nearly nine years," was her response.

"She was fifteen when I first met her," Dumbledore interjected in what he believed to be a helpful manner.

"How _old_ are you?" Snape asked, disgusted that she had been killing people at fifteen years of age.

"I'm twenty," the way she said it, her head held high, her voice steady and sure, told him that she would not change her situation, that she had made the right choice. She pushed the brown file she removed earlier towards Dumbledore. "This," she said opening it under his nose "is my Alias. Chloe Turner, an American witch, pure-blood, moved here to finish her magical education in the acclaimed school of Hogwarts, left parents behind to live with her British Aunt. It's all there in the file, I've covered all the cracks and possibilities, there's a magical Turner family in Glenwood, Utah, purebloods, and a British Turner related to the Americans. Courtesy of some documentation infiltration. Revise this," she tapped the folder. "I have."

Albus looked taken aback at her thoroughness. But regained himself. "Severus would you leave me and Miss…Turner." The pair of them watched his retreating back stalk out of the room.


	4. Of Souls and Stores

"This isn't one of your usual cases Opal. There's a…catch." he sighed, for the first time in years showing his true self, he'd kept secrets of his past, lies of his childhood, things he would certainly die with. But he felt secure, sitting there allowing this assassin to see the true horror in his electric blue eyes. He showed her the age on his face as it paled, turning translucent, sagging. He showed her the ghosts of his past that swam around him, that attacked his mind threatening his sanity, that tore him apart every single waking moment.

She studied him, and this sudden weakness, convinced she was one of few to witness it, and was glad. Upon her investigating she had come across material claiming Albus Dumbledore to be the only one who this Voldemort feared. Clearly morale was alive because of him, and his strength.

"Who?" she spoke gently, though the sound cut through the silence like a gunshot. She wasn't renowned for emotional attachments, no assassin was.

_"__Leave your feelings at the door."_ The voice of her mentor Jay rang through her head.

But she saw the pain across the old man's face, and knew, better than anyone, that everyone needs a moment of weakness. A moment of horrifying reflection that comes hand in hand with grief. "Who makes you feel like that?" The man was a genius, he understood, there was no way he didn't. But it took him years to answer her, months and months and months for him to tell her that it was his dear mother, and his poor, poor little sister who caused him so much pain. It took him that long to voice the answer, to form words that would rightly portray his meaning.

"The catch," he said instead, "is that he will die. Harry must die, but at the right time. Not before, and till that moment you will do all in your power to prevent it."

She nodded. Questioning wizards was never advisable.

"There is however, the small matter of my inability to perform magic. As this is a school of magic, and as my identity will remain hidden from all except you and Potion boy, I will be expected to present said abilities to students and teachers alike."

Albus Dumbledore nodded and disappeared under his desk. He re-emerged, holding a wooden box with carvings of intricate ivy vines winding their way around it, and placed it in front of them.

"When I created this," he said, his hands still over the lid. "I questioned whether it would ever be used. Whether it ever should be used. And I need your word Miss Turner, that it should only be done so when necessary. And destroyed when called for." his silver eyebrows rose.

"Consider it done," she nodded, following orders was something she had done her entire life.

He lifted his hands, and with them the lid. Inside lay a short stick that she presumed to be a wand, and a gold necklace. He gestured that she should remove them.

Hanging on the necklace that swung before her eyes, was a clear glass pendant that looked like a scarab beetle, the size of her fist.

"I don't understand," she stated.

"Put on the necklace, and I will explain." she obeyed. "Every magical being has a power source, that is the store where their magic is kept, the wizard or witch subconsciously draws from that source their magic. However it is unlike any other power source, in that it is infinite, a wizard cannot 'run out' of magic, it is constantly refuelled and replaced, like blood in the body I guess to an extent. It is uncertain where in the body the store lies, perhaps, like the soul, it is untraceable." he looked pensive for a moment or two, contemplating the inner, most complex workings of souls and stores. He nodded to the pendant now hanging around her neck, "This necklace, or rather the glass beetle, is a replica of said store. It can hold magic and power, it can have power drawn from it and, to a certain, although lesser extent, it can replace magic. I had sudden inspiration one day, to discover if Muggles could possess magic, and set out to find an answer. I came up with this. It's beauty is that it will only obey the wearer if the magic was given freely, it will not tolerate thievery.

"When the beetle is empty and clear, there is no magic inside, and none can be withdrawn from it. However when the beetle is full…" he placed the tip of his wand in the crease between the wings, they sprang open, and the pendant began to load with fine gold dust, filling up like a glass vial. When it was three quarters full, Dumbledore withdrew the wand, and the wings snapped shut, encasing the magic that glittered lustrously between the crystal bodywork of the scarab. "…you can take magic from it, and shape it. Simple spells work best, and the magic is weak, but still you will receive the desired effect."

She nodded intrigued. "Can I try it out?"

He nodded "Remember, you have to concentrate of drawing the magic, be conscious of it, be aware.

Try this." he removed his own wand from inside his robes flicked his wrist and muttered "_Wingardium Leviosa!_" the box levitated into the air and hovered a few inches of the desk.

She looked at him open mouthed. "I'm sorry what? Win-what?"

"_Wingardium Leviosa_." he said slowly. "Swish and flick." he repeated the wand movement. "Place the tip of the wand to the store, it is designed so that it will draw out magic on its own. What a wizard or witch would do subconsciously, you have to do consciously. The longer the wand is there the more magic is taken, in time you will learn exactly how much to take with each enchantment." She still looked sceptical so he continued. "The magic does not go through you, it is transferred from the store to the wand. The reason the wand will obey a non-magical being such as yourself is because it is now in your possession. Wands have a funny sort of loyalty to their owners, and because the magic it contains was drawn from a store that is connected physically to you, it will obey your incantations."

She simply widened her eyes, placed the tip of the short stick to the beetle and peered as some of the gold dust trickled away.

She spun her wrist and muttered. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

The box jumped off the desk as if it had been shocked by electricity, but did not stay in the air. She looked at him in disappointment, but he looked positively ecstatic.

"It worked," he hissed like a small child in absolute awe of the best Christmas present. "Try again."

She shrugged and this time concentrated hard on the box, willing it to stay aloft on her magic. As she swish and flicked her wrist and the Latin spell left her lips she felt a peculiar sensation emanating from the skin beneath the necklace, it was a tingling feeling as if she was beginning to get pins and needles, and then it grew warmer. She nearly yelped when it felt as if her skin had broken and the tiny specks of golden dust was seeping into her body, entering her veins traveling with her blood all the way down to her toes and back up again. She gasped as she looked at the box, levitating effortlessly above the desk, lower than Dumbledore's but no less impressive. She threw the wand down and the box fell with a slam.

She had performed magic. Actual magic.

She was no stranger to the concept, magic was part of her everyday life, but she had never herself experienced the exhilarating feeling of performing it herself. It was strange, she could practically feel her adrenal gland working overtime. "Wow." she said staring at the box in disbelief, holding the scarab in her hand.

Dumbledore smiled. "It will remember the spells you have used." he said "The more you use them the less you have to concentrate on drawing the magic." she grinned, performing the spell again and watching with glee at her magic. "There is one more thing." he said, his tone darkening slightly "The magic will disappear when the owner dies. It will return to its rightful place."

She nodded sombrely, wondering if she would still be around when he died. She hoped not, she wanted to fulfill her task and get out of his debt as soon as possible. She wanted to get back to that horrific place she called home, she wanted to hear Jay's roaring shouts as he trained new agents to kill, she wanted to get back to her lab and create a cure for lycanthropy. Not stay here on a protection job. "May I leave Professor?" she asked. He nodded and she left, running through the facts of Chloe Turner, the fifteen year old witch she had now become.


	5. Infiltration

Harry Potter sat in the Great Hall that morning with the rest of the school, listening to the Headmaster introduce a new student. He wasn't obliged to pay attention immediately, his mind still on Educational Decree Number Twenty Four.

She knew. She just _had_ to.

For her to pass this decree only two days after them deciding to form a defence group, must be more than coincidence. But as he moodily crunched on some toast he found his attention focusing on Dumbledore, who was still avoiding eye contact with him, and the new student. The more he listened, the more he watched. The first thing that concerned him was why any parent would want to send their child to a school that was ran by a daft old nutcase who'd lost his marbles and was possibly a danger not only to himself and the children, but to society, and was home to a fame hungry attention-seeking liar know-it-all. This was presuming the girl's parents read the Daily Prophet anyways. The second was the girl herself. She looked sufficiently nervous, standing in Dumbledore's shadow, shoulders hunched and an anxious smile on her face, but there was something about her that subconsciously leaked confidence, and ease. And although she stood a whole head and shoulders shorter than Dumbledore, her face was mature somehow, and her eyes older still. Harry had always been drawn to eyes, they were the only thing that tied him to his mother, that people who had knew and loved her had commented on, so he searched everyone's for their true emotions.

Hers were terrifyingly empty, hollow and endless, like she'd seen far too much damage to be repaired. It made him sad somehow, and he immediately wondered if that's what people saw when they looked into his eyes- a broken shell. Other than that she was average enough with brown hair and pale skin. She was very skinny, Mrs Weasley would call her severely malnutritioned, but underneath the robes that drowned her Harry could tell she had an athlete's body. Maybe even a Quidditch body.

"Come on," Ron said, tugging at his robes. "History of Magic."

Chloe watched as Harry stood up, he was taller than she expected, and sauntered out of the Hall, worry hunched in his shoulders.

She shot a telling smile at Dumbledore, and weaved her way effortlessly through the crowd of children and teenagers. She dawdled purposefully, taking to time to digest her surroundings as to appear late on the pretence of a new student, lost in the huge castle, but when she arrived, it was as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The ghost teacher, who she had widened her eyes slightly at in shock, looked at her in amazement, then at the class in amazement, as if he was surprised that there were people in his classroom, then continued on his lecture, she doubted he even realised she was new here. Chloe did a quick scan of the classroom, avoiding all eyes, and placed herself at the back, behind Harry, and took out a scroll and quill. It took her a good minute to figure out how to use a quill before she realised she needed ink, Chloe sighed and leant forward, poking the girl in front gently with her quill.

"Can I borrow some ink?" she whispered, looking hopeful. The girl nodded, her thick hair dancing around her face as she did, and disappeared in her bag, reappearing moments later with a new inkwell "Thank you," she said.

She'd written three pages on giant wars when she realised an owl was at the window. Sat quite happily on the sill, snowy white, and giving the occasional hoot, Chloe wasn't the only one who'd noticed. It was only when Harry himself stood up and collected the owl, that her attention was raised, as he brought the bird back, she saw her feathers ruffled oddly, bent at angles. Moments later Harry had excused himself from class, taking the owl with him. Chloe watched in apprehension, now understanding Dumbledore's words of caution, following Potter without being noticed herself was going to be more difficult than anticipated. Lucky for her there were only several minutes before class ended, and she was certain Harry wouldn't dare dodge out on Snape's lesson. She went looking for him as soon as a gong rang, just in case he'd decided against potions today.

Snape looked up at the opening of the door. It was the assassin, with a look on her face that was unusual on her defiant features he'd seen last night. Then he realised she was acting, she was a completely new person now, she was Chloe Turner.

"Sorry I'm late," she squeaked nervously. An act. "I got lost," An act. She had memorized the castle before she'd even set foot in it. Every awkward, anxious step she took was an act. Snape had to admit, she definitely was thorough.

"Ah Miss…Turner is it?" he said, playing the game. She nodded. "Make sure it never happens again, I do not tolerate tardiness in my classroom." she nodded again, blushing even. Do they teach them how to blush on cue in assassin school? He wondered, he'd have to question Dumbledore later about it. "Now take a seat. Next to Potter, you can bond over your misdemeanours against me,"

She slid on the bench next to the boy with black hair, green eyes and glasses, briefly noticing the short woman with a clipboard sat in pink in the background. Harry's face was almost as hollow as her eyes.

"Chloe," she hissed putting a shy smile on her face as Snape carried on his lecture.

_"__D__etails Gray, details." _Jay's voice echoed in her head _"__Details make or break an operation. You'__re always acting, always"_

"Harry," he mumbled back. After several moments of an awkward silence, in which they set up their objects, took out their wands and cleared their throats, Harry spoke again. "Did you do this at your old school?" his voice was still guarded and uninterested.

"Yes," she nodded her head, recalling the name of Chloe's old school. "But it was called Poisons on the curriculum. It looks like fun though." she offered, meaning it. She had never been around magic long enough to actually watch it being controlled and taught, she'd seen it being performed, many times, usually directed at her, but seen it under construction was something she had not experienced.

"Ha!" he said bitterly. "After five years the novelty wears thin."

She smiled weakly, Opal was itching to get her hands on the ingredients, to whip up a batch of Blood Replenishing Potion or a Tranquiliser. But Chloe sat still, pretending to listen to the Professor.

"You may began," he suddenly said.

"Oh crap," she hissed to Harry "I wasn't listening, what did he say we were making?"

"Hate Potion," Harry replied grinning.

She knew exactly what Snape had said, she'd even begun running through the list of ingredients in her head. But as Jay had always said, it's the little things that cement a relationship.

"Piece of cake," she smiled. "We did this last year."

Harry could not have looked happier. "So you know how to do it?"

"You're going to love having me as you Potion's partner." she vowed. One of her favourite things about being an assassin was all the poisons they had to learn. Once they had learned the names, properties and what the poisons all did, they then had to learn how to make them, they then had to learn how to make the antidote for them, as Jay had tipped the poisons into the drinking fountain and told them that they needed to treat themselves, or die.

It was one of his 'survival of the fittest' techniques.

When Opal had decided to become a UAS instead of a regular UA she had to then learn all the magical poisons there were, their names, properties, ingredients, what they did and their antidotes. From there stemmed her natural interest, and she found herself learning all the magical potions, as many of the antidotes were. Hate potion had been one of the first she'd learned, and one of the most frequently used. Slipping Hate potion to the target's family and friends worked well for a staged suicide. The family and friends showed contempt for the target, pushing him into depression, a useful state for suicide to take place, if any questions are asked, a simple 'He was depressed,' usually cleared everything up. She chopped up a hellebore plant to dust and sprinkled it into the already violently bubbling substance, she then skinned three rat's tails and added the skin.

"But it says here to add the tail not the skin," Harry protested, pointing to the recipe.

"Ignore that," she assured him cracking open a scarab beetle by pushing her thumbs between its wings and pulling it apart, throwing in the bigger half and then the recipe itself into the cauldron. "Stir anti-clockwise two and a half times," she ordered while searching through the piles of ingredients Snape had given them, surely he didn't expect them to use all of these. She flicked to the corresponding page and read the long list of ingredients, it spanned two pages. She could half that easily, when your involvement in the magical world is limited to killing pesky dangers off there wasn't much time to go shopping for potion ingredients. So she managed by pilfering ingredients from abandoned houses, and occasionally diving into the back alley businesses when one particular ingredient was proving evasive. However, her lack of resources had trained her into using the smallest amount of ingredients possible, thus resulting in potions being made faster, and more economically. She squeezed a flobberworm over their cauldron and it hissed as if in pain, loudly.

Then stopped immediately.

The yellow liquid then suddenly turned the colour and consistency of tar, as if someone had switched off a lightbulb.

"Ah, perfect," Chloe smiled.

Harry looked at the clock, they had only started ten minutes ago. They had another fifty minutes of class left. She was right, he was going to love being her partner.

Divination was uneventful, Chloe was glad to sit in the shadows of the room, unnoticed by both teacher and students. As the others interpreted dreams, she observed Harry, and his ginger friend, as they worked together. They seemed close, in a way that they had been through too much together to not be. Chloe found trauma and fear had one of two effects on relationships, either they were ripped apart or forced together. She had also noted that Harry's worry had increased as they day drew on, and he was increasingly lowering himself in his chair, as if to hide himself from the world.

Defence against the Dark Arts, was the lesson she was most excited about, here she could evaluate Potter's ability to protect himself, keeping her undercover as much as possible. But when she entered the room, the buzz of excitement and activity she expected to be met with was not there.

"I do believe you are our new student," the dumpy clipboard woman she had seen in Potions swooped down upon her, a fake sweet smile plastered on her face. This woman hated children.

"Yes I am," Chloe answered.

"Excellent, my name is Professor Umbridge" she cooed clapping her hands together. "Now if you sit right here, we're reading chapter three today."

Chloe looked at her in disbelief. Not only had the woman sat her as far away from Harry as possible, but she was making them read. It was few minutes before she decided to comply, and read the title.

'The Case for Non-Offensive Responses to Magical Attack'

She looked around, everyone was reading, or pretending to read, this excuse for Defence work. She was itching to complain, but she must stay inconspicuous, blend in. She couldn't understand, however, that if this Voldemort guy was waiting in the wings, why they weren't doing all they could to learn how to protect themselves. Something else was going on. She slowly raised her hand, regretting every inch it climbed into the air. Eyes were swivelling towards her, daring her to defy Umbridge.

"Yes?" Umbridge asked carefully, working her way up to Chloe, who took a deep breath.

"Why we are reading?" she said.

"To learn." Umbridge said slowly, as if Chloe was stupid.

"To learn how to not protect ourselves?" Chloe realised, by Umbridge's expression, and those around her, that this conversation had already taken place in this classroom.

"From what my dear?"

"From anything wishing to harm us," she grinned slightly.

"Such as?" it was as if this woman was daring her to say something. Chloe didn't give her the satisfaction.

"Muggers, murderers, rapists, assassins." The suggestions made Umbridge's eyebrows rise. "The only use I could see this being," Chloe raised the book, "is throwing it at them and hoping to land a head shot." she heard a few chuckles. Her plan of being inconspicuous was down the pan, but if Harry couldn't protect himself then she was going to have to openly save his life some time, quite conspicuously.

"Miss…"

"Turner,"

"If you find yourself in that unfortunate position, you should call for a Ministry official."

Chloe let her jaw drop "Seriously?" she asked.

"Yes, seriously." Umbridge turned.

Chloe's eyes widened significantly, and she feared for the safety of her charge.


	6. Furry Little Glumbumbles

It had taken her a feigned while to memorize the names of the students she had lessons with, stumbling purposefully when they spoke to her as to achieve the effect of a newcomer bewildered by all the information she had been given. It had taken her a genuine while to complete the ridiculous amount of essays she had been assigned. School had never been a part of her life, she was lucky she could read and write if she was being truly honest. So completing essays on the laws of Transfiguration and Charms and an ancient wizard war for History of Magic, she struggled.

Potions she could handle and Herbology was simple enough, as most plants were grown to be used in potions she had a pretty good idea of most of their properties. But she was still four years of magical training behind everyone else and Hermione's insistence on being better than everyone didn't help her feel any better about it either. However she found comfort in the fact that Ron was awful at Potions and hated every minute of homework spent on it, and so they came to an unspoken agreement whereupon she would complete his Potions essays whilst he did his best with her Charms and Transfiguration ones. She also found this more useful in getting to know Harry better and as the leaves were changing and eventually dropping from the trees, she found herself conversing with him on the subject.

"What the heck is Glumbumble fluid?" he asked peering closely at his Potions book

"It's fluid from an insect." She answered, remembering vividly trying to extract fluid from a furry little Glumbumble when one of the agents had eaten hysteria inducing alihotsy leaves by mistake. Well Jay had fed them to her on purpose to see if she could cure herself. "It's used as an antidote for alihotsy leaves." He just looked at her mindlessly "Which cause hysteria." Harry looked back down at his book, scrawling in the margin.

"And why are they found near nettles?" he asked.

"That's what they eat." she answered, scribbling out, once again, her conclusion to Transfiguration, which had quickly become her least favourite subject. She growled angrily. "I'll be feeding nettles to McGonagall soon."

"Let's see," Harry said peering over.

"I literally have no more to say about vanishing things. Just get an invisibility cloak or something."

Harry smirked at her as she handed it over. He had noticed that in Transfiguration she tried as much as possible to not be picked for demonstrations, or to perform any kind of transfiguration at all.

It was the only problem with the scarab, Transfiguration required a certain extent of powerful magic, which she didn't have. Harry's eyes scanned the paper as Chloe rummaged through the rest of the scrolls spread out before her. Umbridge had set them a particularly patronizing essay summarizing the first chapters of their Defence Book, she cursed under her breath, wondering whether it would be worth it to just not do it. But she took the moment to quiz Harry on his knowledge of defending himself.

"So what's with Umbridge?" she asked watching his expression carefully. He simply shrugged "'Summarize Chapters 1-3 of _Defensive Magical Theory._' Do we ever get to learn how to _really_ defend ourselves?" she started scratching a half-arsed summary of Chapter one. "I mean I wouldn't have a clue what to do if I found myself face to face with Voldemort."

There was a crash as Harry jumped and banged his leg on the table, sending the inkwell spilling all over her Transfiguration essay. "Harry!" she yelled, trying to rescue the work she had taken a painful amount of time on. "Oh!" She moaned as she held it up, dripping blue ink all over the table. He leaned across the table, still in mild shock and siphoned the ink away with his wand. The parchment withered slightly but the writing was still, if only just, eligible. "What were you thinking?" she asked reproachfully.

He was still close to her from cleaning her parchment, and he hissed quietly, "You believe me?" she nodded "But you used his name."

She shuffled closer to him so they were practically nose to nose. "I'm not afraid of his name, I'm afraid of what he can do." Harry shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his forehead absentmindedly.

"You believe me?" he repeated. She looked at him questioningly.

"Of course I do. Why would you make something like that up? Plus Dumbledore believes you, and he's not an idiot." Harry grinned at her it was comforting to get some support every once in a while, but she didn't return the friendly gesture. "I am worried though, how can we make sure we're protected when we have that sham of a woman teaching us? If he's back…" she shivered. Harry blushed slightly and moved back to sit down in his seat, leaning back over his potions book.

"If you had the chance would you want to learn how to defend yourself?" he asked casually after a few moments pause. She hesitated, finishing her sentence on the complexity of vanishing vertebrates in comparison with invertebrates, dotted her full stop and looked up.

"Course I would." she replied.

"Would you break the rules?" he questioned carefully.

"If breaking the rules helped me to someday save my life then there's no question." she rolled up the pitiful looking scroll and slid it into her bag "McGonagall will just have to deal with that."

"Look, we're thinking of setting up a defence group. In secret of course, to make sure that people who want to protect themselves can. But Umbridge can't find out. With educational decree whatever number it is, we're all likely to get expelled. Are you in?" he looked hopeful.

"Who'll teach us?" she asked.

"I will."

Chloe nearly jumped for joy, she had been fretting over the lack of defence skills this boy had. She would have to protect him off her own back, throwing herself between him and offensive spells, taking out as many Death Eaters as she could. But here he was telling her he could do it himself, and not only that, but he was teaching other people to do it too. It made her job a hell of a lot easier if she didn't have to expose her real motive to him any earlier than needed, the longer she could protect him in private the better.

"I'm in." she grinned. The portrait hole opened behind them as they finished off their mound of homework and she smiled to herself on her ability to successfully infiltrate Harry's group of friends.

"Alright Harry?" a voice said. Chloe looked up to see two boys who could only be brothers of Ron. They had flaming red hair, freckles, brown eyes and a mischievous sort of air. They were undoubtedly twins and were eyeing her with a look of interest and in the flickers of firelight she saw what looked like soot scattered across their nose. Harry nodded in reply.

"Yeah. I was just telling Chloe about our defence group." he said.

"Funny that," one of the twins said eyeing her carefully, "we were just wondering when our first little meeting would be?"

"It's just," the other one said, "we can't wait to jinx Smith off his feet." He winked at Chloe, who had no idea who Smith was or why he deserved to be hexed by these twins.

"It's finding somewhere big enough to hold all of us. There's twenty five. Six now Chloe's joined." he gestured to her.

"Fred and George." the first twin introduced them

"Older and better looking brothers of Ron." the other said. She smiled despite herself.

"Chloe Turner." she replied, looking over her shoulder at them. "What happened to you guys?" she asked narrowing her eyes gesturing at their dirty faces and, after further scrutiny, robes. They exchanged a nervous glance and just tapped their noses retreating upstairs. Chloe gave Harry an inquiring look and he just grinned.

"In my first year they told me I could die playing Quidditch, in my second they rescued me from my Aunt and Uncle's in a flying Ford Anglia. Do I need to continue?"

She shook her head smiling, "I'm going to bed. Umbridge can piss off. If she wants to know what the book says she can read it herself." Chloe went to bed still smiling.


	7. Thorough Research

Albus Dumbledore was flicking through the brown paper folder absent-mindedly, he had taken heed of 'Chloe's' instruction and memorized its contents. A small part of him was concerned at how much information she seemed to have collected. Not only on her alias but on Harry and his friends, on Dumbledore himself, on Voldemort and his rise and fall to power, of the Wizarding world including Hogwarts, its History, staff, rules and the Ministry of Magic (involving a scarily accurate drawing of its insides paper clipped to the information). Dumbledore suspected, and rightly so, that she had broken into the Ministry to obtain such detailed accounts of Harry's past and, well, everyone else's. If it wasn't for the Ministry's ridiculous ignorance and the fact that- despite her intentions being less than noble- the agent was there to keep Harry alive, Dumbledore would have felt oddly violated at her seeming disregard for privacy or dignity. Yet the matter stood that she was in fact there for Harry's sake, and Dumbledore worried that she may be the only thing standing in the way of Harry and Death itself.

She had seemed to blend in quite inconspicuously among the students and staff alike. He had received no strange reports or complaints about her, he hadn't even heard any offhand comments from anyone, which was a good sign. Only one person seemed incredulous about Gray, and that was Severus.

He had stormed into Dumbledore's office in nothing short of an outrage after her first week among them.

"You gave her a wand?" he had shrieked upon arrival, a nerve in his eye twitching, "How is that even possible? Never mind morally sound?"

"Nicolas Flammel and myself constructed a 'Muggle wand' if you will, quite a few years back now. Not one of our greatest or wisest inventions, but no less fascinating." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily.

"But she is an assassin Albus. She is a killer! And you have given her magic? Given her access to the Unforgivables? I dread to think what she could do with that kind of power."

"Surely no more damage than Voldemort can do. The magic is my own, and still loyal to me. It would not perform any kind of dark magic, Severus."

Snape still stood there his mouth open slightly in disbelief. He wasn't overly sure how to accept this information, all or any of it. He still didn't understand why Albus had chosen him to tell, it all seemed pretty obscure to him.

"So," Dumbledore said smiling and clapping his hands together, "other than that how is she fitting in?"

"Wha-well, fine I guess." Snape replied sitting in the chair almost automatically. "Good at Potions." he nodded, impressed despite himself.

"Mmmm yes, she did mention she specialised in concoctions. More poisons, I believe, than potions were her forte." Dumbledore smiled fondly to himself at the memory.

Severus, however hateful his actions were towards Harry, had the same intentions as Agent Gray. That was the true reason he had introduced her, unmasked, to the Potions master.


	8. Defence

They sat in the Common Room nervously, waiting for the clock to strike half past so they could attend their first meeting. Harry Ron and Hermione had agreed to go first to find the Room and prepare it for their gathering. Fred, George, Ginny and Chloe were to follow after a quarter of an hour.

"So how did you get roped into all this?" Fred asked Chloe. She had learnt by now to identify the difference between them. Fred had a rounder face and a shorter nose whereas George's was longer and he had a small mole on his neck.

"I want to be able to protect myself. Same as you lot." she answered not meeting their eyes. The twins grinned at each other.

"We only want to learn how to beat Harry in a duel." Fred said as Ginny punched him in the arm.

"Let's go" George said checking his watch and pocketing his wand. They left the Common Room, glancing around them.

"Nervous?" Chloe asked as they walked down the corridor.

"No!" George said straightening up.

"Never!" Fred agreed strutting confidently. Chloe exchanged grins with Ginny.

They reached the tapestry without any problems. They encountered Filch in the corridor above, but quickly avoided confrontation by dodging behind a statue and were soon back on their travels.

"What now?" Ginny asked, peering at the blank wall.

"Harry says we have to walk past it three times, thinking about a room to practice in." Chloe said stroking the flat wall. "I'll never understand magic."

They followed Harry's instructions and sure enough, when they opened their eyes, there was a door sitting quite innocently against the wall, as if it had always been there. Fred took a breath put his hand on the handle and turned. It swung open with a creak to reveal several people sitting in a huge room furnished with cushions and book shelves.

"This is so cool." Ginny hissed.

"Tell me about it," George said, looking up at the high vaulted ceiling.

"So, are we going to see what you're made of then?" Fred said nudging Chloe with his elbow and George grinned. She gave a non-committal shrug. Here's where Dumbledore's ingenuity came into play, her fake wand needed to have her back now more than ever, or she would be royally screwed. Explaining her way out of that situation was not something she was looking forward to.

"Let's see," she mumbled, more to herself than to them.

It was Harry's decision that they should learn the disarming spell _Expeliarmus_, something that required, luckily, more concentration than actual power. It was easy enough to disarm her opponent, a boy in her year called Neville Longbottom who, on their first few attempts, seemed to be holding his wand the wrong way round. But she put it down to his disbelief in his own ability rather than her skill.

"Come on Neville," she said jeeringly. She had seen Jay train countless agents, even trained a few herself, and she had found that igniting a fiery fury towards your opponent was the best way to overcome confidence problems. Jay had even used it with her back in the day. He'd exhausted her for three months, only allowing minimal sleep, training hard throughout the night and traipsing round countless streets throughout the day. Until one day she snapped and he ordered her to kill him, she had certainly tried her very best to.

"Are you even trying?" she said. "Do you even want to hex me?" Instead of urging him on it seemed to deflate him even more. "Come on!" she said, more encouragingly, changing tack. "You know that you can do this. If _I _can do it so can you!"

"But your good at magic." he mumbled.

She laughed loudly. "Are you serious? Have you _seen_ me in Transfiguration?"

A small smile spread onto Neville's face. She had quickly become the worst student at Transfiguration in Hogwarts history. It was such a perfected art form that required complete control of magic that she had been wholly unable to grasp it. Since the magic was not her own, she did not have enough say of it's finer skill, and she quickly became frustrated with not being able to do it.

"Exactly," she said firmly. "Now show me how much better you are than me. I know, you know, so let's stop pissing around and get down to business."

He didn't manage to disarm her, but he got bloody close, and if Harry had kept the lesson going maybe ten minutes longer, she was sure he would have managed it. What she did notice was that his mood was more amiable and he said his words with more confidence. It seemed her pep talk had done the job, it was a good thing, in a way, that she'd witnessed so many others being trained in combat.

Halfway through the lesson she felt a sharp nudge in her side. She turned sharply to stick her wand in the eye of whoever it was, when she realised it was a Weasley twin.

George had elbowed her to take note of Fred who was disarming a mystified looking Zacharias Smith from behind. Once Smith picked up his wand again, George disarmed him. The four of them snickered loudly, which drew Harry's attention and they received a reproachful look.

"Sorry Harry!" the twins said, looking anything but apologetic. "Couldn't resist,"

Harry rolled his eyes in mock annoyance and continued on his mentoring duties.

"Bit of a killjoy sometimes isn't he?" Chloe commented, vaguely watching him. There was something about him, some heavy air hanging around him, like he had a burden to bear. She had seen it before, in people possessed by darker forces, like there was someone else within Harry, someone much more terrifying.

Dumbledore had explained the potential link between Harry and this Dark Lord, and his musings that, now Voldemort was returned to full power, it may grow stronger. Chloe feared he may be right, and a small well of panic rose inside of her. Physical monsters she could deal with no problem, she'd kicked enough supernatural ass in her time, but inner demons were another thing completely. How did you destroy them without destroying the host? No, that was something only they themselves could battle with, she just had to make sure Harry was strong enough to win.

"Yeah, but get him on a broom and he's happy enough."

She did a double take. "Get him on a what?" she had to make sure she'd heard him right.

"A broom. You know, Quidditch?" Fred rose a brow as if she was insane. She had to take his word for it, cursing inwardly that she'd not done enough research to know what the hell Quidditch was.

"Yeah sure, sorry." she improvised, making a mental note to drop in on Dumbledore later on to find out what this broom business was.

"Anyways, you'll see soon enough." George assured her.

"I will?"

"Yeah, you're coming along to see us practice right?" Fred asked, grinning away.

George nodded proudly. "We're on the team too, that alone is worth the trip down to the pitch," they had identical mischievous grins. It must have been some sort of sport if there was a team. But on brooms?

These people had to be mad!

Faced with a three headed dangerous enemy, big enough and strong enough to kill her with a swipe and Gray wouldn't lose her cool for a second, but heights? Now that was a different story.


	9. Practice Makes Perfect

She'd been shivering on the Quidditch pitch for five whole minutes and she still had no idea how the game was played.

Angelina Johnson, the Captain, had been pep talking her team on the ground since they came out of the changing rooms, and had only just decided it was a good idea to start playing.

"Ron," she called to the redhead who was standing next to Chloe, looking quite ill, "help Harry with the balls,"

"Hold this a second," Ron said passing her the broom and racing off to get the box of balls.

She eyed the thin shivering stick suspiciously. It looked far too dangerous for mounting. Fred and George noticed her obvious contempt for the broom and zoomed over to her.

"Not a Quidditch fan?" Fred smiled jokingly. She assumed they were referring to broom flying

"Never tried it." she answered "I'm not stupid enough to trust my life with this," she raised her brows at the offensive item.

"You've never flown?" George asked in disbelief. She shook her head defiantly.

"Never felt the need." she answered haughtily. The twins exchanged glances.

"There's no way you're getting away with this." Fred warned. Chloe looked at him in confusion, when he suddenly grabbed her by the waist, removed Ron's broom from her and deposited her on the back of George's.

"No way!" she shouted in surprised protest, but George had already told her to "Hold on!" and had kicked off the ground.

She let out a howl of fear before clutching to him for dear life as he accelerated upwards.

"I hate you." she growled over the wind as it whistled past. George took a dive and she found herself screaming, the adrenalin pumping through her veins. Her grip on the Weasley tightened and she could feel his body underneath the Quidditch robes. Her fingers curled into the fabric in fear, desperate to be back on solid ground.

"Watch this." he shouted to her, and she could hear the smile on his face.

She couldn't help grinning herself as George bent forward, pulling her with him, and they soared through the air, at colossal speeds. Chloe raised her head above his and felt the rush of air flying past her face, the wind combing her hair with his fingers, whipping her robes around her.

She'd never known such freedom, the initial fear had been blown away and she was soaring. She could easily stay up here forever, clutching onto the Weasley, ignoring the war going on below, the people whose lives she'd have to take in the future.

Up there, there was no time, no past, no present, no future, nothing but gliding with the birds and the clouds. She silently thanked the months of balance training she had done with Jay, otherwise she'd have slipped off the broom sideways and fallen to her death. Just as her arms- that were still fearfully clutched around George's waist- were turning numb, she heard a faint whistle blow, and George swear softly.

She looked over the side, down onto the faraway ground and saw a circle of ant sized, red-robed people looking up at them. They slowly and reluctantly descended to the ground, and as soon as George's feet thudded onto the mud Chloe pushed herself off and away from the broom, and up to Fred.

"Don't _ever_ do that to me again!" she said, breathless, fear still in her eyes. They swivelled to the broom, and George, who were both coming closer. "Unless I ask you to," she added quietly. Fred howled with laughter, as did his brother who had joined them. They didn't stop laughing until she was pulled from the pitch by Hermione, and Angelina Johnson ripped into them for wasting practice time.

"That was cruel." Hermione offered kindly. "You must have been terrified."

"Yeah," Chloe answered absentmindedly. "Terrified," she glanced back at George and caught him looking her way, ignoring the Captain as she shouted threats and warnings, as their gaze met he grinned.

The flight wasn't the only thing that terrified her.


	10. A Lesson in Quidditch

A Lesson in Quidditch

At breakfast the next day Ron looked more than just pale, he looked like he'd faint any moment, and wouldn't touch food. Chloe was doing her best to blatantly ignore the fact that the twins had sandwiched her in on the bench, and were discussing loudly her ability to fly.

Or lack of.

"I thought she was pretty good," Fred said, talking over her head to his brother "Compared to Gnomey anyways."

"Who's Gnomey?" asked Hermione, who wasn't doing so well in ignoring them.

"Our garden Gnome." Ginny interjected, sitting down beside Ron "Fred and George strapped him to a broom once and bewitched it to fly."

A small groan issued from Ron.

"And I thought it was just me you picked on," Chloe interjected and was met with two sneers either side of her. Harry meanwhile was trying to give Ron a pep talk for the upcoming game

"Get a grip." he said sternly "Look at that save you made with your foot the other day, even Fred and George said that was brilliant!"

Ron, if possible, turned as shade greener, his eyes tortured. "That was an accident, I didn't mean to do it- I slipped off my broom when none of you were looking and when I was trying to get back on a kicked the Quaffle by mistake."

Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise "Well a few more accidents like that and the game's in the bag isn't it?" he said recovering quickly.

Chloe grinned and turned to Fred "What position do you play then?" she asked. He grinned proudly.

"George and I are Beaters. We stop the Bludgers knocking people of their brooms and falling to their deaths."

Ron squeaked as if in pain and the twins were shot a warning look from Hermione.

Chloe strolled happily down to the Quidditch pitch with Ginny and Hermione, taking her seat, and found she was rather excited about the upcoming match, she had never seen a Quidditch game before. There was a sea of green, red, yellow and blue in the stadium overlooking the circular pitch. Three hoops on long sticks were positioned at each side and when the players came out of their dressing room applause and cheers broke out, as did significant boos. Chloe couldn't help to think of the insanity of it all, how were they ever going to fight a war together when acts of division like this were not only sanctioned but encouraged. Yet she still sat there in excited anticipation, wondering vaguely where she would be right now if Dumbledore hadn't of called her to his aid. The match began and she was unsure of where to look, players zoomed so fast on their brooms that she feared they would fall, her eyes flickered about for Harry, prepared to leap out if he should endanger himself. Though she felt a flicker of fear as she realised should he fall there was not much she could do about it. Maybe Wingardium Leviosa could help her. She refuelled her wand just in case, and cursed her inability to perform magic naturally. Then the singing started from the Slytherin team

"_Weasley cannot save a thing_

_He cannot block a single ring_

_That__'__s why Slytherins all sing_

_Weasley is our King_

_Weasley was born in a bin_

_He cannot let the Quaffle in_

_Weasley will make sure we win_

_Weasley is our King__"_

Their eyes swivelled to Ron, a lone figure by the goalposts and it wasn't long until he was put to the test. A flying Slytherin, Quaffle in hand threw it towards the goalposts Ron was guarding, he dived and missed it by centimetres as the large burgundy ball went soaring through one of the hoops. The Gryffindors groaned unanimously but the Slytherins cheered and screamed, singing that awful song even louder.

"Oh no!" Hermione said softly "Poor Ron." her eyes were fixed on him, but Chloe had turned her attention back to Harry who was circling the pitch, desperately searching for the Snitch. Another fifteen minutes into the game saw Ron let in three more goals and the Gryffindors were beginning to grow edgy. Chloe had frozen several times when a Bludger had travelled too close to Harry for her liking, Then Gryffindor scored and the tension was released somewhat, but the game was in full swing and the Slytherins were making the most of Ron's discomfort with the insistent singing. Then Harry changed direction, diving towards the ground and Malfoy was quickly on his tail, both after a tiny winged ball, glinting gold in the scarce sunlight, they swerved and dived, both neck and neck, and the crowd held its breath as one. Harry enclosed his hand around the struggling snitch and pulled to a halt. Out of the corner of her eye Chloe saw a movement, Crabbe, one of Malfoy's cronies had hit a Bludger at Harry's turned back. She gave a yelp and raced down to the pitch, but heard the crunch as it collided with him before she was even halfway there, she pushed herself faster and managed to see Harry fall, albeit only a few feet, to the ground, winded.

"Are you alright?" the team captain Angelina Johnson asked him, reaching him first on a broom. Chloe was there shortly afterwards, cursing once again her inability to fly or run faster, Harry clambered up.

"Course I am." he said taken aback at Chloe's sudden arrival amongst the Gryffindor team. She gave him a sheepish grin

"You won!" she said as an explanation and he grinned.

"Yeah we did!" The team seemed to surround him, patting him on the back and wringing his hand. Chloe joined in, playing the excited Gryffindor. Fred and George barged in punching Harry in the arm

"Well done mate!" George said doing a double take as he saw Chloe standing there "Little overenthusiastic aren't we?" he jibed. She sneered back at him

"You know me, can't keep me off a broom." and they grinned at each other. Harry however wasn't listening, his eyes were on Malfoy and soon George tuned in to what he was saying

"-we couldn't fit in useless loser either- for his father you know-" Both Fred and George stiffened at this and Chloe sent Harry a warning look.

"-but you like the Weasley's don't you Potter? Spend holidays there and everything don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasley's hovel smells OK-" Harry grabbed George's arms to keep him from rushing up and beating seven shades out of Malfoy. Fred was being restrained by Angelina, Alicia and Katie. Chloe stood on edge, waiting for Malfoy to advance so she could have a reason to curse him with her fuelled up wand. Instead he backed away leering as he did "Or perhaps you can remember what _your _mother's house stank like Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it-" Harry released George and the pair of them sprinted towards Malfoy and began to punch him senseless, the snitch still clutched in Harry's fist. George was swearing loudly, calling Malfoy all sorts as Chloe found herself rushing to Harry's side, not to join in the primitive fight, but to stop it. Her first instinct was to squeeze herself between Harry and the Malfoy boy, she didn't even consider reaching for her wand. But found that doing so received her a fist in the side of the head, so with all her force she grabbed the inside of Harry's elbows and shoved him off the whimpering blond, yelling "Stop!"

He was so disorientated that he fell to the ground, but soon stumbled to his feet and tried to run back at Malfoy. Chloe scrambled for her wand pulled it out and yelled "_Protego!__"_as Harry ran towards her, colliding with the shield, at the same time Madam Hooch sent George flying with "_Impedimenta!__"_Harry looked as confused as he did furious. Chloe flicked a piece of hair from her face, her wand still raised in action. She only let it fall when Harry and George, who was sporting a split lip, were sent up to the castle. She sighed in defeat and gave him some credit by not following him, surely he could make it there in one piece.


	11. Tease

The Common Room was subdued after dinner, it didn't feel like they had won at all. Chloe was beginning to panic, Harry hadn't been seen since his departure from the pitch, followed shortly by Umbridge and it was highly likely that the foul woman had killed Harry and George. Chloe felt slightly sick at the thought of not only Harry's untimely end, but sat in the common room by the fire watching Fred pacing up and down in fury. When they finally re-emerged, both sullen and bitter they announced their lifetime ban of Quidditch to be met with outrage. After a long and desperate discussion, which the Weasley twins and Harry looked in pain to be a part of, Angelina retired to bed, hoping the whole ordeal was a bad dream. Fred and George grumbled at each other for a while in dropped voices and stopped immediately when Fred caught Chloe staring at them. George spun round at his twin's sudden halt and raised his brows.

"What?" they asked together. She shrugged

"You should do something with that split lip." she merely stated "People may be able to tell you guys apart."

Fred's brows rose to meet his brother's. "And what do you suggest he does?" once again she shrugged. Then an expression crossed his face that looked something like deep curiosity, he repositioned himself and cleared his throat loudly "Why _were_ you down there heroically risking your life to save that brat's?" he asked. Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny and George turned to face her in interest. She cursed inwardly, she was failing miserably at this Undercover business. It was simple to keep yourself in the shadows when all you had to do was kill someone, but being permanently in view, with the same people day after day, it was more difficult to inconspicuously trail and protect Harry. She sighed quietly,

"Well I guess I was the only one to notice Harry get whacked off of his broom," she said irritably, "_I_ went to go make sure he wasn't dead. Apparently being the only person who cares whether he lives or dies?" Well handled Gray, she congratulated herself.

"Fred was more concerned with why you stopped Harry beating the crap out of Malfoy." George interjected, leaning forward, interested to hear her answer. Since she had almost crushed his ribs out of fear whilst on the back of his broom, he had been intent on trying to understand her. She shrugged again "He'd probably get expelled if he'd carried on.," she said, rubbing her head, which had risen slightly where someone had hit it. In the commotion she hadn't noted who. She lowered her voice slightly "Then who'd teach us how to defend ourselves?" she raised her eyebrows. They grumbled in agreement.

"You wouldn't care if _I_ was expelled?" George asked her, pouting, still in his Quidditch robes. Fred made an identical face over his brother's shoulder.

"Or me?" he said sadly. "Maybe it's only Harry she cares about." Fred made kissing noises after her as she rolled her eyes and went to bed, he made it to the bottom of the stairs then conjured a pair of lips which he bewitched to follow her.

"Come on Fred let's go hope Angelina was right. All just a bad dream." George said dragging his brother up the boy's stairs, his eyes on the lips kissing the door to Chloe's room.

Chloe tried desperately to ignore the insistent banging on the dormitory door. Fred's lips had now grown impatient and were ramming themselves insistently against the wood. She drew the curtain around her bed and removed her robes, underneath she wore close fitting Assassins gear that held her weapons. A belt that hung like a sash across her body held a row of ammunition, a hand grenade, a long blade, a lock picking kit, a pocket with emergency liquids inside including Novocaine, wound cleaning potions, a sleeping draught, and several darts pre-filled with Pavulon- a paralyzing agent and a lethal dose of Potassium Chloride, and a tranquiliser gun. She removed the belt by pulling it over her head and placed it under her bed. Next she unstrapped her leg holster, stowing the sig p226 under her pillow for fast access, and removed a short blade from inside her boot and threw that under there for good measure. She sighed, reaching around to grab the zip and undo the clothes, stepping out of them and into her pyjamas, which were equally as Assassin standard fitting, in case her skills were required at night, she could shove her belt over them and her robes on top of that, for a swift exit. She kept the scarab locket on at night and the wand in her hand lest she forget to pick them up. All her previous training had taught her to grab weapons instinctively in emergencies so that it became second nature, but grabbing the wand was something she would have to teach herself to do, it was yet an instinct she had.


	12. Hagrid's Hut

She felt like, at the time, blasting the door off its hinges to stop Fred's lips from consistently trying to batter the door down. It was only after a half hour, when the other girls had gone to bed and pulled the pillows over their heads to keep the noise out that she flung the door open, grabbed the lips before they could reach her and stormed downstairs.

As she walked across the Common Room she noted that Ron had returned from his travels and was sulking by the fire with Harry and Hermione. They vaguely looked up as she marched up the stairs that led to the boys' dormitories and identified Fred and George's room as the one with scorch marks on the doorframe. Chloe flung the door open, tempted to hurl the blade she had grabbed before leaving at them, instead she threw the kissing lips into the room and caught a look of astonished faces on each of the four boys inside and slammed the door shut. It was soon met with the howling laughter of the Weasley twins and she shook her head making her way back to her room.

As she reached the top of the stairs to the girl's dormitories she noticed Harry and Ron speeding up to their own room, dipping into the shadows she watched as they returned brandishing a cloak. Harry pulled it on over the three of them and they disappeared into nothing. This was the Invisibility Cloak Dumbledore had told her about. She nipped into her room, threw on the belt and a cloak and returned just in time to see the portrait hole close from an invisible force she knew to be the trio. Still gripping her wand from before she snooped through the portrait and stuck only to the darkness, which wasn't difficult considering it was night time.

"_Homenum revelio!_" she hissed placing the wand to the beetle, and speaking the incantation Albus had told her she would need when Harry put the Cloak on. Slowly their outline appeared ahead of her, hurrying towards the front door and she stuck to their heels. It was only when they reached outside that she saw their destination. A small hut, alight from inside with a thin stream of smoke emitting from the wonky chimney.

She watched as Harry raised his fist and knocked on the heavy door. She ducked into the shadows as Hermione glanced around to check they were alone. Soon enough they were welcomed by a massive man, hairy as hell. Hermione squealed shrilly and they were bundled into the house by this semi-giant.

All she could do was to wait for him to leave, skulking in the shadows and pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She sneaked up to the very edge of the house, peered quickly into the window and ducked down again once she caught a quick glimpse of Harry, Ron and Hermione talking to the huge hairy man who'd attached a giant steak onto his eye. She could hear their faint conversation,

"Dementors?!" the gruff voice of the hairy man exclaimed, spewing tea everywhere. Chloe listened to Harry's rendition of an attack he had suffered in the summer. She closed her eyes in desperation, wishing Dumbledore had told her what an absolute danger magnet he had assigned her to protect. She had encountered Dementors before, if only briefly, and never wanted to face them again. Bullets had no effect on them, nor did any of her blades.

All there was left was a cold chill, right to the bones, every nasty, haunting thing that had ever happened to her, that she'd ever done, threatened to drown her. She'd, in that moment, been grateful for her vicious past, for she had been so used to carrying around the grief, the anger and the pain, that the affect they had on her was like a dull ache rather than the stabbing despair she should have felt.

She grit her teeth against the cold, running her thumb up and down the grain of her wand, imagining the wood moulding to her palm, becoming a part of her.

She would never get used to carrying the thing around with her, this...stick that only looked good enough for shoving in someone's eye socket.

A long sigh left her mouth sending out long white tendrils dancing in the cool air. Beyond the mist a hazy figure picked their way towards her. Chloe slipped further into the shadow of the hut, her ears still trained into the conversation taking place, but her eyes were narrowed, trying to place the newcomer who was coming closer and closer.

The moonlight didn't cast much light, but when the figure stomped torugh the deep snow and itno the silver glint Chloe swore under her breath.

She reached out, smacking her palm roughly on the window, hoping to alert Harry to the arrival of Umbridge.

"What was tha'?" The half giant asked, the scraping of his chair on the floor telling Chloe that he had stood up. "Ruddy hell, get yer cloak on!"

Chloe slunk round the back of the hut as the short statured professor crunched her way towards it. She was by the pumpkin patch and settled on a large one that was big enough to support her, drawing her knees towards her chin, as Umbridge rapped sharply on Hagrid's door.

Nightmare.

This whole thing was a living nightmare. Not only was Harry in danger from one particular powerful wizard, but it seemed his own government was out to get him. It didn't help that the stupid child was hell bent on running off and flouting authority every eighteen seconds. She couldn't deny that this rebellious streak was useful for the DA, but hell, if he didn't watch his back he was going to put himself in some serious danger.

It made sense that Dumbledore hired a bodyguard. She'd have to watch his back for him.


End file.
